Fed of of being a pain in the ass (for being bitchy and scratchy over a case of extreme itchiness following a carpet buying spree last weekend), I decided to take myself off to the clinic... Or rather I let H (an English speaking brother of our motel complex owner) take me. This was a real experience. First he drove me to a little clinic which was just a big room with about 4 little rooms off of it. In the first little room, I paid about 75 cents for my visit and received a slip of paper with my name and age written on it. Then I waited for my turn at door number 2. The doctor didn't examine me, but just listened to my story and pronounced that I had contact dermititus (this is neither specific nor descriptive) and should get an injection and some allergy pills. Then I went back to the first door to pick up pills, a syringe (and contents) to go to room number 4 (for women). That nurse had gone out for an hour, but the man in the room for men was just leaving on his rickety bicycle. This rather dusty-looking man said he could give me my shot if I liked. I hesitated, then rolled up my sleeve only to find that was NOT where the shot was to go!
Anyway, H suggested we take the injection to another nearby clinic. It was closed. No problem in Hawler, you just bang on the neighbor's door. A little girl came out of the first door and said that her dad was the nurse's landlady and we should go around the corner to the second door.... At that door, we were directed to yet another door. Nobody home. So we just drove around the university area to a home clinic. WOW! A man opened the door into the tiniest clinic I have ever seen. A stone sort of room attached to a house with two uneven 1 meter benches built into the wall and covered with colorful blankets with just enough room to stand in between; one higher bench (examination table?) was in the center at the back of the room with just enough room to stand on either side - also covered with colorful blankets. The man prepared the syringe and went to get his wife. She - dressed as colorfully as the blankets and looking serene in a mauve scalloped headscarve - took the syringe. I felt a little worried as she rather looked more like your stereotype of a 'gypsy' fortune teller than a nurse. The two men stepped outside the clinic and she jabbed it in (intermuscular for allergy patients). OW!
Anyway, H suggested we take the injection to another nearby clinic. It was closed. No problem in Hawler, you just bang on the neighbor's door. A little girl came out of the first door and said that her dad was the nurse's landlady and we should go around the corner to the second door.... At that door, we were directed to yet another door. Nobody home. So we just drove around the university area to a home clinic. WOW! A man opened the door into the tiniest clinic I have ever seen. A stone sort of room attached to a house with two uneven 1 meter benches built into the wall and covered with colorful blankets with just enough room to stand in between; one higher bench (examination table?) was in the center at the back of the room with just enough room to stand on either side - also covered with colorful blankets. The man prepared the syringe and went to get his wife. She - dressed as colorfully as the blankets and looking serene in a mauve scalloped headscarve - took the syringe. I felt a little worried as she rather looked more like your stereotype of a 'gypsy' fortune teller than a nurse. The two men stepped outside the clinic and she jabbed it in (intermuscular for allergy patients). OW!
1 comment:
Isn't visiting the doctor in another country FUN?!?
In Iran, young G needed an injection in the rump AND an IV for his exhaustion/vomiting. G was fine, but it was all a bit too much for mum, who ended up on the floor unconscious!
For the record, the clinic used single-use syringes from India and the nurse was not wearing a chador. (Apparently only a few hospitals require these for staff and visitors. A trained nurse told me she thinks they are a hygiene hazard, never mind the risk of accidents.)
Don't know about in Iraq, but after just a week in Iran, I felt a bit funny exposing my arm to the male doc to have my blood pressure taken! How quickly we adapt.
Anyhow, hope the itching is better and nothing more sinister requiring medical attention happens!
W in Yokohama
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